Nearly The Last Time

Nearly the last time
I’m going to say anything
about the clocks under my skin
and how the count off rhythm they deliver
relents only when my attention
slips under water and drowns

then revives itself over and over.
Nearly the last time 
I’m bothering to explain myself
about how this body works or doesn’t.
How I slide along until I hit a stone
or seam in the road and then
derail and fall singing to the shoulder.

Nearly the last time I do much of anything
with this head limping along as it does
as I try to make sense of happy and sad and 
the complicated mouthfeel of my breath 
escaping back into the mistaken effort
to stay alive exactly as I always have.  

Nearly the last time I try to make sense
and I say nearly only because
I’m under the assumption that one day
soon I’ll run into someone who will make me
want to make sense again. They’ll ask me
how I got so far in spite of the clocks and
my runaway organs.  I’ll slow down and tell them.
how in every life there’s a Someone to capture. 

Someone you want to capture.  Someone’s a trap
I want to trap. Someone is a mistake
I was born to make one more time, a someone
called by my name I haven’t met entirely well.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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